On The Edge Of Forever
by PolarBearPress
Summary: She was the last of her kind scarred from a life forgotten.  He was an elvish prince who didn't realize what he was missing.  Together they set out with eight others to defeat the darkness.10th.Legolas/OC original: Fear of Falling or Edge of the Earth
1. Visions and Possibilities

Author's Note: BACK AND BETTER! Not only am I redoing Alva's story but my sister, Lady of the White Tree, has given me permission to take over all of her stories! Yay! :D Lots of duologue is taken directly from the script, so hopefully I stay as true to the movies as I can! I've only just finished the hobbit and started reading the Fellowship so maybe once I finish the trilogy the other stories will be truer to the book.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any of the characters :( so full credit goes to those who did. Peter Jackson and his people get credit for the script (because I'm too lazy to look up who wrote it at this moment). I do, however, 'own' the plot and the original characters. Marked T for safety, might be moved up to M later on! -eye wiggle!-

Reviews are **encouraged** and welcomed! Just be nice, okay? I welcome ideas and suggestions on how to make this story better and how to continue it, so feel free to give your advice! I welcome it gladly!

Love, kisses, and cookies for all! ~ P.B.P

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Star light, star bright,  
First star I see tonight.  
I wish I may, I wish I might,  
Have the strength to find the light.

Chapter One: Visions and Possibilities

_October, the third age, 3018_

_South of the Gray Mountains_

On the shores of the river Greylin, at the foot of the Gray Mountains, there dwells a secret that has long been forgotten. Tales of its greatest treasure have passed from myth, to legend, and then faded from knowledge. The orcs have long feared them, terrified of their magic, but the Faes are not a dangerous people. They thrive off of peace and tranquility and the beauty of nature. Yet, as knowledge of their existence faded from thought and shadow spread across the land, they began to dwindle in number. By the time of the first Ring War only a handful still remained with the strength to oppose the darkness and return the world to peace. And so peace came and the Fae's disappeared passing into eternity like the falling of leaves from autumn trees. Even the elves had believed that they were extinct, but this was not the case.

The world was slowly beginning to change once again. It was different than the ancient ebb and flow of the seasons, it was different than the phases of the moon and the sun, it was dark, and terrible. It was just like before, this feeling of dread and apprehension that clutched at her heart. Though all the trees of the world were still shades of radiant green, the season would soon change, and the nearby forests of Mirkwood would be painted in shades of amber and gold, red and orange, and pale tones of purple and yellow. Then the cold sting of winter would wrap its icy hands around the world, and all the trees would stand naked, the mountains white and brilliant, the air biting and cold. This was the natural order of things, but her visions told her otherwise.

_A great black cloud moved slowly, much like that of a fetid hand, across the brilliant blue sky, blocking out sunlight and birdsong. The brilliant emerald forests withered and died as the shadow extended its reach, and great columns of smoke began to rise from the distant planes. Ash fell, like rain or snow, upon the earth, and the air tasted of death and sorrow. A vision of rolling plains, covered in long, waving grasses and rocky knolls replaced that of the forests. Rohan will be the first to fall, infernos danced where homes had once stood, blackened features were all that remained. Gondor shall follow, a great city, made of brilliant white stones, fell like an avalanche upon the mountain, descending, down, down, down onto the field below, the mountain it had leaned against standing naked in the darkness. It will all fall. It will all burn, and all shall die. Men, women, children, and elders shall die. Images of faces flashed before her eyes, glassy, lifeless eyes stared at her, mangled, broken hands reached out in their death throws. More smoke filled the air, until the world was reduced to nothing more than a pit of ash. Rivers ran red with blood, and black with decay. The smell of death and blood and gore filled the air, threatening to choke the life from all who breathed._

There was no hope, no happiness, no cheer to be found in the days to come. This moment, this second, this breath could very well be the last one she breathed before the world ended, and yet, she knew there was more. Even in the darkest of hours, especially in the darkest of hours, there is always the faintest light. The faintest hope that someone will stand against the injustices committed against the weak. The Dark Lord of the East, who had been crippled nearly an age before, but like a wolf he had slunk back to his lair, waiting, biding his time, licking his wounds until the timing was perfect. Something was missing, he was somehow incomplete. Even as far as she was from the land of Mordor, the ancient Fae could feel his longing and his hunger as if it were her own – so open were her thoughts that she could feel those of the Dark Lord of the East, and it horrified her. Closing herself to the hate and cruelty that spilt form his mind, she opened her mind to others, in the hope that all was not lost.

_Suddenly a bright, brilliant, shining and dazzling light filled her mind. The forests exploded in color and the rivers surged, pure, clean, and devoid of foreign pestilence. The smog dissipated, and the buildings of far away cities stood once more, bright and brilliant in a future without evil or darkness. Hope is never lost; there are always those who will stand against the darkness. He is not all powerful yet, he still has a weakness. A flash of an image, a simple golden ring, flashed across her conscious. It was there for little more than a breath, but it filled her with hope. Nine will stand against the power of the East. You are needed once more, Verisiel. Your time has not yet ended. You remained for a reason._

The image were crippling, and the Fae found herself on her knees as her eyes fluttered open to reality once more. Her visions were gifts, and they were almost never wrong. There was still hope, and it brought tears to her eyes and she smiled at her reflection in the river's glassy surface. Her ears were pointed like an elf's, and yet she was completely different. She shared in their gift of immortal life, but that was about the only quality the two races had in common. The Fae's strength was tied to the living force of the world, and so long as it survived and prospered so would she. Her kind, or the very few that she knew of, did not have the same gifts as the elves either. Many elves had powerful gifts and talents - given to them by the Valar - while the Fae's shared in the powers of nature. She could learn anything that the living force of the world, that nature, wanted her to know simply by listening, by opening herself to its visions. Her powers of healing could surpass that of any of the Elvish lords if she practiced and every element could bend to her will, if her conviction was strong enough to control them. A suddenly wind blew to the South, tugging at her long, wild mahogany mane of cascading spirals, as if she was being pulled. Was she being shown the way? Like she had been so many lifetimes ago? The Fae exhaled softly and shakily rose to her feet.

"I am not as I was then," she whispered to no one in particular, "the one you know, the one they will recall, is not who I am." Not once in the last 3000 years had she ventured from her home on the shores of the Greylin and the forests south of the Grey Mountains. In the life she remembered she had been alone, and she was prepared to be alone for the rest of eternity. Her job as a Fae was to care for the forest, to heal it and to guide it. What use would it do her to know about the dealings of men, or dwarves, or hobbits, or even the elves just outside her world? Shaking her head, the Fae rocked back on her heel, looking up at the clear night's sky. Countless stars glittered overhead, stretching into eternity, and she found peace in its vastness.

"There is no place for me in their world," she whispered quietly to the tiny cat that appeared and settled at her side. He meowed softly, and the Fae cocked her head sideways to look at her lifelong companion. To many people he appeared to be a kitten, but that was not so. He was simply a dwarf cat. The size of a kitten, he was a fully grown wild cat that lived only in the trees of Mirkwood. He was Aradan, a lonely animal who had been cast out of his clan for reasons he never discussed. The two had become good friends over the last 6000 years they had spent together. For reasons she did not understand, the fae had lost pieces of her memory from 3000 years ago. She knew of the Ring War, but could not recall her part in it, for she knew she had played one. Delighted, he turned his lavender eyes to her and flicked his pale orange tail lightly.

"_You are summoned, Alva, there is no choice"._ The dwarf cat's voice whispered in her mind. He had a deep voice, like a fully grown man would have, which made the orange and white striped cat with the muddy brown ears appear even more comical, his voice contradicted his appearance. "_Prepare yourself, someone comes."_ He purred as he hopped onto a great rock and turned to watch the path, his tail flicking from side to side in anticipation. The trees whispered softly to one another, passing word through the forest. The dwarf cat looked over at her from his perch and seemed to smile, his eyes glowing mischievously.

Alva sighed, ignoring Aradan's eyes as she moved slowly to a little pool on the edge of the water. It was little more than a shallow pool, surrounding by a small ring of stones that protected it from the river's flow and from the shifting ground of the muddy banks. She settled near the pool's edge and slowly ran her hand a breadth from the water's surface. The liquid beneath her fingertips went eerily still and not even the rain that was beginning to fall could disturb its flat surface. At first, all that could be seen was the Fae's own reflection, and then the image slowly shifted, twisting to show an elf on a speckled white horse. His hair was pale and brilliant, even in the rain and dim light that fell from the overcast sky he seemed illuminated by the sun. He seemed to be searching for something, his eyes sweeping slowly across the land before him, and in her heart she knew it was her.

Some time passed and the rain remained little more than a drizzle, but it sounded like a downpour as it echoed off the leaves of the trees of the ancient and mighty forest. Finally, he came to place where the rode turned, and where the Fae sat, gazing out across the river, Aradan was still on his rock, his tail swishing back and forth.

"Are you the one that they call Alva?" He called out, his voice was strong and calm, warm and welcoming, and yet she did not answer him. Silence passed between them for many long moments.

"It depends upon who asks for us," she said, her voice calm and gentle. She looked over her shoulder at the elf, and yet even the image in the water's mirror had not done his appearance justice. The elf was just as fair as she, only his hair was pale, and his eyes were green, like emeralds, yet also brown, like the bark of the Walnut tree. She could read surprise in the lines of his face. It seemed to take him a moment to regain himself and look away from her.

"I am Legolas, son of Thranduil. A prince of the Woodland Realm east of this forest," He said lightly, placing his hand across his chest as he bowed his head slightly, a smile spread across his lips. "I have been sent to find they call Verisiel. There is to be a great Council held by Elrond, Lord of Rivendell and all the free people are called to attend. I have been sent to see if the Lady of the Faes wishes to represent her people."

"So, Elrond has not forgotten us," she said with a sad smile, "You have no farther to look Legolas, son of Thranduil, than with your eyes." She stood to fully face the elvish prince. She wondered what a sight she must have been to him. The gown she wore was of pale emerald, and it was tattered and torn at them hem, exposing her bare feet. Her arms were bare, her skin almost paler than his own. Her dark hair fell in soft spiraling waterfall down her back and across her shoulders. "We stand before you. I am both the one they call Verisiel, though I know myself better as Alva."

"Lady Alva, then," Legolas said with a nod and a smile, "will you answer the call?"

"With all my heart I would refuse," Alva said, closing her eyes and shaking her head slowly, she had no wish to take part in another war, "but my heart has no say in this matter. I will join the Council of Elrond in the lands of Rivendell." Legolas smiled slightly at her reluctant acceptance, and held out his hand to her. She hesitated slightly, though not out of fear. Alva did not fear horses, they were beautiful and powerful and kind creatures that worked hard to please those they served. What she feared was that all she had seen would come to pass. After breathing deeply and pushing all somber thoughts from her mind, Alva reached out and took his arm. With minimal assistance, she swung up onto his horse's back. She settled just behind him, her arms wrapped snugly around his chest. After a moment, he encouraged the horse forward, and it gladly turned and cantered off in the direction of Rivendell.

"_You did not think that I would let you go on this adventure alone now, did you?"_

Aradan's voice rang clear in her mind, and she turned to see her dear friend sitting on the horse's back behind her. His comment made her smile for she was glad to have him along. This adventure would be very different than the last one they had taken part in, and to have him at her side calmed the nerves that were beginning to rise in her chest. She would admit that she had been surprised that Elrond had remembered her or knew where to find her, but he was far older and wiser than she could ever hope to be. And she had spent too much time wondering at the power of elves to let it fill her mind now. Now, in the present time, this hour this minute this second she needed to focus on what was approaching her, and in all truth, it terrified her beyond any mean of explanation or clarification. She was afraid and she was unashamed to admit it.


	2. A Welcome Ally

A/N: Chapter Two! *shing! sparkle sparkle!*

Disclaimer, hugs, kisses, and cookies!

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My mind isn't quite sure  
what is has bargained for.  
But my heart is in time with,  
with the consistent beat.

Chapter Two: A Welcome Ally

"Welcome to Rivendell," Legolas said softly as he extended his arm to aid in her dismount. Six days before they had set out from her home, along the way they had met other wood elves that had been sent to join Legolas in Elrond's council. Though she had been introduced to each they did not interact often with the fae. It had not offended her. Carefully, Alva took his hand and slid from the horse's back, her eyes still wandering distractedly like those of a child. Aradan sat perched upon her shoulder, and he too was completely consumed with awe, his head twisting every which way as he attempted to see everything all at once. Alva could not say what she had expected to see, but it had not been this. She had not expected to see such natural splendor, and she felt humbled by it. The buildings were carefully crafted, their walls were simple archways with little covering or paneling, allowing in the light of the sun, as well as that of the moon, and the warmth of the breeze. The elevation of each individual building changed with the rise and fall of the landscape. She was unaware that her party had moved on until Legolas gently touched her arm, and her attention was suddenly pulled away from her surroundings.

"Come, we must go." He turned and began to away, and she quickly followed along the winding path. After a few twists and turns, they suddenly entered through an archway into a room unlike any she had ever seen. On one side it was completely open; there were no walls to keep out the sunlight or the wind. The open side looked down over the forest and the river that twisted far below. On another side was a massive tree, far bigger than any Alva had ever known. It was so broad she wagered that she could not even wrap her arms around it. Across from the great tree stood a wall of stone that jutted out slightly over the ravine. Upon the wall were carved figures that meant nothing to Alva, though they probably had some relevance to the elves. There were more than a dozen chairs seated in a half circle around a great stone pedestal. The pedestal sat before a high backed wooden chair with another, smaller one, at its side.

In the great, high backed chair sat Elrond. She took a deep breath and bowed to Elrond, he looked exactly as he did in the last memory she had of him. A sudden strength flooded her veins, and she met his welcoming gaze with pride. Beside the Elf King sat someone whom she did not recognize, and looking around she saw that she recognized very few of the people gathered. Their faces were all somber and serious, and very few looked at her as she entered. Out of the corner of her eye, Alva spied a Wizard who nodded to her slightly, though his gray eyes seemed to follow her as she stepped into the chamber. Beside the wizard sat a young man the size of a child with a head of brown curls almost as dark as he own. Her eyes found where Legolas had gone. He sat next to many of the companions whom they had traveled with.

There were dwarves in the meeting room as well. Alva knew them by appearance only, and they all seemed to stare at her with narrowed eyes as she walked past. The great axes that hung from their belts were hard to miss, and she felt herself become very wary of them. A man with chestnut hair, who had a silver tree embroidered on his vest, sat alone in one of the many available chairs, and he paid no attention to Alva as she passed. Another man, more rugged than the first she'd noticed sat in the chair closest to the entrance. She settled lightly in a chair beside the Wizard, she felt relaxed and at ease, even though she was weary of all the people in the room. Carefully she closed her mind from these people, not only to protect her thoughts from them, but to protect her from their thoughts. She allowed her eyes to wander around the room, studying the architecture and examining the people that filled it. Elrond cleared his throat, drawing Alva's attention. Her multicolored eyes snapped to him as he scanned the gathered company. Aradan suddenly landed in her lap, and she stoked his mud colored ears affectionately.

_I thought you had left me_, she mused silently in her mind. His response was tiny snort that was inaudible to most of the room's inhabitants.

"Strangers from distant lands," Elrond began as he folded his hands before his brilliant red and golden threaded robe, "friends of old. You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor." He spoke calmly and carefully, articulating each syllable clearly. "Middle Earth stands upon the brink of destruction, none can escape it. You will unite, or you will fall." His words seemed to echo in the silence, and Alva found herself watching the faces of the people around her, judging their reactions. "Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom. Bring forth the Ring, Frodo."

Alva watched as man-child on the other side of the wizard, with his shaggy brown hair, simple clothing and hairy bare feet, hopped from his chair and moved hesitantly towards the pedestal of stone. So his name was Frodo, Alva thought, adding it to the list of names she had recently learned. She could be no judge of age, because she did not know his race, but she guessed that he was quite young, only in early adulthood if not late adolescence. As the man stepped back, a simple band of gold could be seen upon the pedestal and Alva gasped in horror. It was the ring from her vision, that single flash of gold in her mind had been this ring, and it horrified her. A great feeling of evil washed over her, like a dark cloud threatening to block the sun from the sky, forever. A strange familiarity joined the horror; she had seen this thing before. It was the one ring - she could feel it in her heart and soul.

"So it is true," the man of silver tree, who wore a simple jerkin over a brilliantly embroidered shirt and chain mail, said quietly as he raised his hand to his mouth slightly in surprise. Alva balled her hands into fists in her lap, never removing her eyes from the simple band of gold. The man of the silver tree stood, slowly, and began to speak again. "In a dream I had, I saw the eastern sky grow dark. But in the west, a pale light lingered. Voices crying: doom is near at hand! Isildur's bane is found!" As he spoke he stepped closer and closer to the stone plinth, and slowly, carefully, he reached out his grasping hand. Alva saw the wizard tighten his grip on his staff, and the air suddenly became thick with tension.

"Boromir!" Lord Elrond shouted, but his words were drowned out by the booming voice of the wizard.

"_Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulûk, agh burzum-ishi krimpatul!_" The words ran through her veins like ice, chilling her with both terror and fear. She blinked at the ground, before squeezing her eyes shut in an attempt to close herself off from reality. Suddenly, the darkness behind her eyes swam and became a fiery red glow, hungry and ready to consume all that surrounded it. She gasped and opened her eyes, unable to escape from the ring even in her own mind. She saw that several others were shocked and breathing slightly heavily, though none seemed as affected by the wizard's words as she.

"Never before has any voice uttered the words of that tongue here, in Imladris." Elrond said, his voice slightly angry, but controlled. The real anger could be seen in his eyes. They glowed fiercely at the wizard, and Alva could only guess the thoughts that filled his mind. Once more she felt frustrated about her memories, and it was getting old fast. She could remember many things, but not all things about the first war. One thing, however, was for certain. This ring was the one thing standing between the survival of Arda and doom and ruin.

"I do not ask your pardon, Master Elrond," the wizard said as he shakily took up his seat once more, "for the Black Speech of Mordor may yet be heard in every corner of the West! The Ring is altogether evil." The wizard's hatred for the little ring was very clear.

"It is a gift." Boromir, the man of the silver tree, said defiantly, his eyes still trained to the golden ring. "A gift to the foes of Mordor. Why not use this ring? Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, held the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of my people are your lands kept safe!" His voice was filled with passion and conviction, but Alva sighed sadly at his naivety. "Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy; let us use it against him!" His ideals and intentions may have been food, but sometimes the ends did not justify the means.

"You cannot wield it," the rugged one said suddenly, and Alva's eyes snapped up to see him, "none of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master." He was tall and heavily muscular, his dark hair was brushed back from his face, and for the first time Alva noticed the shadow that seemed to linger in his dark eyes.

"And what would a ranger know of this matter?" Boromir's voice was icy and condescending, and it made the Fae flinch slightly. Though she was used to unfriendly speech between races, she was not used to distrust among the same people. Suddenly, Legolas stood from his seat suddenly, just as Boromir was turning away from the man he'd clearly insulted.

"This is no mere Ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance." Alva saw the sudden disbelief that crossed Boromir's face before he spun to face the Ranger once more. Alva drew a quick breath. The image of a tall, proud, dark haired man with dark eyes and dark intentions surfaced in her mind. His plate armor covered in ash, and blood and gore, the fractured blade in his hands and the ring in his palm as he lifted himself from the ground. Isildur the King of Gondor, a man that Alva had known three thousand years ago and this man, Aragorn, were distant relatives. This in turn made Aragorn heir to the throne, at least from what Legolas was saying.

"Aragorn? This is Isildur's heir?" Boromir said in complete disbelief.

"An heir to the throne of Gondor," Legolas said sharply, as if to drive his point home to Boromir.

"_Havo dad_, Legolas," Aragorn said gently as he raised his hand to silence the elf. It puzzled the Fae, though, that an heir to a throne would wish to appear so…unroyal.

"Gondor has no King. Gondor needs no King," Boromir seemed to snarl as he prowled back to his seat. Aradan placed his paw gently on Alva's clenched fist, and she suddenly realized her palms were bleeding slightly from where her nails were biting into her flesh. She looked down at the dwarf cat in her lap, and he looked up at her with big, sympathetic eyes, and she simply smiled back at him before glancing up at the next speaker.

"Aragorn is right," the wizard said, clearing the tension from the air as best he could, "we cannot use it."

"You have only one choice," Elrond said as he stood, regaining control of the Council. "The Ring must be destroyed." Alva allowed her eyes to scan the men around her, and their eyes betrayed their secrets. No doubt many of them agreed with Boromir, they wanted to use the Ring to defeat this common enemy of theirs, but they also felt the truth in both Aragorn and the Wizard's words. And Alva doubted that any of them were foolhardy enough to contradict Lord Elrond again.

"Then what are we waiting for?" One of the dwarves - younger than those around him in appearance - snapped as he hopped to his feet and hefted his ax high above his head. He roared loudly as he swung with all his might at the little band of gold, but to no avail. His ax shattered upon impact, small pieces of the weapon went flying, and Alva lifted her hand slightly to protect her face. She could not hide the shock in her features. The dwarf went flying backwards and Alva felt Frodo's mind flinch violently, and it shocked her more than the decimated axe.

"The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloin, by any craft that we here possess. The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade." Elrond's words were serious and solemn. "It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came. One of you…must do this."

"One does not simply walk into Mordor." Boromir was the first to break the silence that had begun to fill the chamber. His hand was resting over his eyes, shielding them from those around him. "Its Black Gates are guarded by more than just Orcs, there is an evil there that does not sleep, and the Great Eye is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland, riddled with fire and ash and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly."

"Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said?" Legolas shouted slightly as he launched from his chair to face the man. "The Ring must be destroyed."

Alva heard what the men were saying, but did not really listen to them. Her whole mind was focused on the ring. It felt like a solid being, one that she did not trust, and that it was standing far too close for comfort. She felt it, as if it were a great evil bird, perched upon a branch, watching her with eyes she could not meet.

"And I suppose you think you are the one to do it!" The Dwarf, the same one who had attempted to strike at the ring, Gimli, snapped in his gravelly voice. Alva could sense the tension between the Elves and the Dwarves, and she wondered if they were truly allies, or if they actually hated each other.

"And if we fail, what then?" Boromir said as he rose from his chair once more, raising his voice above the others, gaining attention and control, "What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?"

"I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an ELF!" Gimli roared as he jumped from his chair, and that was when all hell broke loose. The Elves stood in indignation and began to argue loudly with the Dwarves, the men stood behind Boromir and also began to argue. Soon, everyone was shouting at each other, all attempting to be heard above all others. The sound was a horrific roaring in her ears, and she shuddered mentally as she attempted to block it out. And as she shifted her focus, dark, sinister, unspoken words claimed her attention. The ring was causing this; it was driving them all against each other. It was the source of this chaos.

"Do you not understand? While we bicker among ourselves Sauron's power grows! No one will escape it! You will all be destroyed, your homes burnt and your families put to the sword!" Alva heard the wizard as if across a great distance, for her mind was being taken far from the normally peaceful halls of Elrond. Her ears were the filled with the quiet, treacherous voice of the ring. It hummed and purred at the bickering of the men, its cruel intentions egging them on, willing their argument to escalate into more than just angry words. She could feel its hatred as if it were her own. Alva was ripped back to reality so suddenly she felt dizzy. She had slammed shut the door of her mind so suddenly all sound had faded from her ears, though after a moment she realized it was not of her own making. Silence had fallen upon the bickering group, and the fae blinked as she attempted to regain her focus and understand what had happened.

"I will take it," Frodo said as loudly as he could, which was not very loud for someone of his size, "I will take the Ring to Mordor. Though, I do not know the way." Alva saw the wizard's shoulder drop slightly. No doubt he had not wanted Frodo to take the ring, and Alva marveled at his courage.

"I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, so long as it is yours to bear," the gray wizard said as he placed a hand on the small man's shoulder and stood behind him. Alva could tell that the words pained the wizard.

"If by my life or death I can protect you I will," Aragorn said as he slowly rose from his chair and crossed the room to stand beside the wizard. This was a very strange turn of events to be certain, and Alva was positive that her expression was just as stunned as the people around her. "You have my sword."

"And you have my bow," Legolas said as he too stepped forward eagerly. His silvery blond hair dancing lightly in the breeze, but his hazel eyes were intent on Frodo before he turned them to Lord Elrond.

"And my ax." The dwarf Gimli said as too joined the group that was beginning to form in the center of the room. There was silence for a moment, before another of the assembled men spoke.

"You carry the fates of us all, little one," Boromir began to say as he strode forward; "If this is indeed the will of the Council, then Gondor will see it done." As soon as Boromir had finished speaking there was a loud cry from somewhere to Alva's left, and she felt herself jump slightly in surprise. Another man, the size of a child, rushed forward to stand beside Frodo, his arms crossed. His hair was a mass of curled hair the color of summer wheat, his eyes were kind and she could read the good intentions on his face. "Mister Frodo's not going anywhere without me!"

"Indeed! It is hardly possible to separate you, even when he is summoned to a secret Council and you are nor," Elrond said loudly in surprise, though there was no disguising the humor in his eyes or in his voice.

"Hey! We're coming too!" Alva's eyes snapped up to see two more men the size of children run up the group. They seemed to be appearing out of thing air! "You'll have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us!" The one that spoke seemed older, and his voice was slightly deeper than the others. The speaker was also taller with reddish gold hair and sharper features than the one that followed him.

"Anyway," the fourth small one said, "you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission…quest…thing."

"Well that rules you out, Pip," the third small one said to the forth and Alva couldn't help but smile. But as she looked upon the nine men before her, her expression dropped. As she looked upon their faces, in her heart she felt that some, if not most of them, would never pass this way again. The smiles on their faces and the brightness in their eyes would fade and they would join the others whose lives had been taken by the darkness.

"Nine companions," Lord Elrond said as he looked over the men assembled, "So be it. You shall be…" His voice dropped as Alva stood. He turned to look at her, they all did. The sudden rush of confidence that had filled her earlier flooded through her blood once more, and she suddenly didn't feel like Alva anymore. Instead, she felt an old knowledge, an old strength, and an even older power grow inside her mind.

"You are about to set out on a path that we journeyed on once before. Your quest shall be filled with sorrow and despair, but you are the small light in the darkness, the last hope of the world. If you fail, all is lost. We should very much like to see you succeed, Master Frodo, and so we offer all we can to your cause. For as long as you shall have us, we offer the aid of our magic and our knowledge of healing." The silence suddenly shifted in the room. Alva saw in the wizard's eyes that he recognized her, she saw doubt and amazement in Legolas' eyes, and had not the heart to look at Lord Elrond.

"A women?" Boromir scoffed, "What use is a woman in war?"

"She is no mere woman," the wizard snapped loudly, "she is the last of the Faes! The last remaining child of Suidan, King of the Faes, and therefore she has the greatest magical and healing abilities in the entire world! If you would deny her then you should just slit your wrists now and be done with it!" It took all of Alva's self control to keep from giggling at the wizard's remark. Though his knowledge of her origins was indeed a great surprise; for even she had forgotten her own father's name.

"Allow the Ring Bearer to decide," Elrond said carefully, his eyes shifting from Frodo to Alva and then back. What was he expecting? What did he want to see? Alva turned her eyes to the small one, and he seemed to be looking to the others around him for guidance. Alva smiled slightly and looked down at Aradan, whose chest was puffed out proudly at his friend. Though suddenly, she had a feeling that Aradan did not share in her offer of assistance.

"We will gladly have you," Frodo said quickly after remembering how he had almost died only a week earlier. Alva looked up in slight disbelief. It was an incredible feeling, to be wanted and needed and _welcomed_. The Wizard smiled at her, as did Legolas, and she returned their reassuring smiles. Something in her heart told her that this journey could awaken the power she felt sleeping in her mind and maybe that was why she had been summoned to this meeting. Maybe that was why she too had been selected for this adventure, this mission.

"If that is all, you shall be the Fellowship of the Ring," Elrond said with much finality.

"Right! Where are we going?" The fourth small one said, and even Alva looked at him and blinked. Was he that foolish? To join a quest that could, in the end, claim his life and not know where he was going? Then, Alva realized exactly what she had done. She was beginning to feel as if she were a lamb among wolves, and that lamb was walking blind into the bear's den.


End file.
